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Nathen Margas
Few now care to remember Cynric Margas, that bloated old fool of a Western general who was loved by his troops and was a hated father figure. Fewer still remember his origins however, as a Hollish noble who forsook his home and family for a life of battle, and eventually rose to the top of the food chain through determination and endurance. His past is lost, his exploits and achievements buried with him in the grave. A rather small mark he left on Carodeissa's bejeweled history, a relic of the Marn era for historians to squabble about for the coming years. But his legacy lives on, yet perhaps not the way he envisioned it. Nathen Margas at an early age was, like most young Western nobles, a fountain of potential for great things. He spent most of his first years reading; whether it be scholarly research books, old Dormian legends, or simply a children's adventure book, when the other noble children would be sparring, gossiping, or gawking at 'lesser' things. Nathen inherited almost everything from his mother, his hair, his personality, his outlook on life, and so much more. It was at such an extent that his father often joked that he was the product of an affair, to his mother's chagrin. His father looked into, asked, then demanded to have him join the military repeatedly during his teenage years, to groom him to take his father's place, but Nathen refused, and would have near become a scholar had his parents relented. Finally, after a tense hesitation in his life plans, he volunteered to become a city guardsman around the same time Cynric was serving as a Paladin. Quite some time later, King Renault was assassinated publicly and Cynric retired from his oaths. Nathen, seeing a chance to escape military life, left the garrison and went home. By comforting his father's recluse in taking a wife, Levitha Wilkes (a childhood lover), and starting his own family, he seemed to have gained control of his own path. The reality quickly came crashing down when he was requested as either a political advisor or military councilor in the Western courts due to his scholarship and knowledge, both of which had been noticed by officers very well during his period as a guard. Nathen refused, however, and focused on his personal life more. His son Kale was born within a few years with some difficulty, and like his parent's marriage, he and his wife quickly grew apart, the only thing holding them in the same household being their offspring. Levitha grew barren after this, and, having nothing else to do, mostly turned to a life of herbalism, running one of the many small shops in the Western city. Noting home life was becoming increasingly boring without the aspect of a united family to grace it, Nathen eventually accepted the court's offer and became a military councilor. Some of his ideas for reform in the army went unnoticed, but he took a page out of his father's book and accompanied soldiers on patrol, sometimes leading them personally, and not to mention improving living conditions in camps, putting down bandit parties, and going on 'monster hunts', which at times actually did end in a captured beast. This was rather risky behavior for a man half the military would sometimes lean on, but Nathen began to enjoy it as he realized his ambition more and more. To take his father's place, as it was once said? By the time Holland was attacked by the dark knights, he had risen to a considerable position within the council, and many of his fellow Hollishmen in the military looked to him for advice when first signs of a conflict appeared. He personally lead a contingent of soldiers to repel the attack, and participated in the skirmish that happened there. In the aftermath, witnessing the brutality of an actual battle with a deplorable, immoral foe with uncaring views on their enemies, his views on the importance of life were reinforced and he began re-writing his battlefield tactics to involve as minimal casualties as possible. This, of course, went well with the soldiers using them. By the time he had returned to the city, his father lay terribly ill, and death seemed to be standing just inches away. With a heavy heart, he explained to Cynric the current events, and what he had been through. His father, a harsh, old man at this time, simply remarked "It's about time you grew a pair." and layed down to rest. A day later, Cynric Margas died, simply stating his 'fortune' was up for grabs. The household went into mourning temporarily, and many friends from past and present came to give their condolences. After about a month, with everything somewhat back in order and his mother put into care with her maiden family, Nathen returned to work. It seemed as if all was well, but many backs began to turn to him for some reason, and old friends started acting strangely. One finally broke the act when threatened about it, and simply told Nathen he "had better watch his back, because bribes were going around and deals made behind the curtain." This flew in his face, as his pride and ego simply told him people were still mourning and not wanting to bother him. He did not leave his home the next day, and questioned his wife when she came home from her shop. After quite some time, she finally relented and told him that her brother, Jamison Wilkes, Nathen's brother-by-law, was plotting to remove Nathen's influence to make breathing room for his own inclusion into the military council. Jamison was a head guard at this time, serving in the Central garrison post-siege With the highest political powers absorbed in their own game, rivalry and plots reigned supreme in the lower areas of the government, and the Margas family became caught up in the whirlwind. Nathen attempted to compromise with Jamison, who had always disliked him, but only got a stout denial and a door shut in his face. He returned home to find his wife was gone, their son rocking in his crib in tears. She did not ever return, and he assumed her brother had pulled her into his fold. This suspicion was confirmed when he was given an annulment slip with her signature on it by an anonymous courier. Several days later, a gathering of villagers arrived at his house in the farmlands outside Holland, accusing him of attacking their village and stealing all of their food. With some confusion he allowed them in to search the place, and was promptly thanked with a club to the head and his house ransacked and razed. His son, only aged two at the time, was gone, and was apparently taken to be raised by the villagers. After finding that he had nothing left, he took a mule and traveled to the East, with only the clothes on his back. Life in the East was a culture shock, and many times he was almost arrested by authorities for doing something he did not know was against a law. He eventually learned to live with it and settled into the capricious life of a sellsword. Several times he participated in drunken bar fights, and multiple wounds were acquired over the years from irate peers and lowlifes. He was a strider for a time, wandering from one place to another, living off of the odd job or two he could wrangle from a townsman or otherwise. But he could not escape his duty back home. He layed awake late at night, thinking over the men that had once served under his command, the expectant faces of his peers. Swords being drawn from gilded sheaths, a circlet being lowered onto a brow. He dreamt of dark things happening in a barren land, and of strange magic descending upon the world. He remembered the tramp of soldiers marching in formation, the war cries, the old songs that stirred mens' hearts to great deeds. He rose up one morning and departed back to his native land, this time with a clear path set before him. He found the city much as he remembered it, yet different all the same. Mere minutes after speaking with the reigning king and being ushered back into service, an old man stumbled into the room, telling them of a great menace forming to the north.